


In the deep of the night

by marlowe78



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: (no real spoilers but set after AoU), Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie) Spoilers, Bruce Banner & Tony Stark Feels, Bruce Banner & Tony Stark Friendship, Bruce can't hide from Tony, Comfort/Angst, Friendship, Gen, Light Angst, Talking, Tea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-02
Updated: 2015-09-02
Packaged: 2018-04-18 17:16:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4714064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marlowe78/pseuds/marlowe78
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“What the hell are you doing here?”</p><p>“Visiting my favorite exiled scientist, what else do you think I’m doing here? I’m certainly not here for the scenery.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the deep of the night

**Author's Note:**

> Hm, just some thinky-thoughts about AoU-ending that turned into a fic.

It’s dark inside his hut, just as it had been for months. Everything is where it’s supposed to be – the bucket in front of the door, the spider-web in the upper righthand corner of the entrance, even the chicken are calm and scratch for bugs like they always do. 

And yet he’s sure that he isn’t alone.

It’s a bit disconcerting and a lot creepy to go into a room he knows for sure isn’t empty, knows for sure is occupied by someone he doesn’t want to see. And yet… what could possibly happen, right? Who could possibly … No. No, thinking like that is dangerous. Thinking like that leads to disaster and pain and loss and death. There is an entire village close by that might be hurt by whoever is in there, and he can’t afford to be resigned or think that nothing bad can come to him.

There is always something worse that could happen. He’s learned that the hard way.

“What do you want?” 

It’s false bravery. He’s not really as calm as he’s pretending, but whoever is there won’t know. Or well… in this case, he probably does. Fuck. He knows this presence even in the pitch black darkness, would know it blinded and half-dead.

“Tony,” he groans. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Visiting my favorite exiled scientist, what else do you think I’m doing here? I’m certainly not here for the scenery.”

Even while it’s still dark, Bruce doesn’t need light to know that Tony Stark is lounging on his bedding, leaning against the clay-wall and trying for nonchalant in a way that can only ever be pulled by him. He doesn’t need a candle to see his smirk, and he doesn’t need a lightbulb to know it’s just as pretend as his own calmness.

He sighs. “You know, leaving was supposed to tell people I’m not interested in company,” Bruce says while feeling around for his matches. He doesn’t _need_ light, but he wants it now. “It was supposed to send a giant, neon ‘leave me the hell alone’. Don’t know where it didn’t register with you lot.”

“Oh, it did. Sure did. And I know you don’t want company, which is why I am alone.”

Bruce chuckles. A dark, nasty sound. “Right. That’s what she said the first time we met, too.”

“Well, I claim to be many things I’m not, Brucey, but I will never try to pretend to be Agent Romanov. And I’m not Fury. If you want alone-time, or alone-life… Well. I’ll leave you alone and forget I saw you. Or I’ll probably not forget, but I’ll tell Jar… Friday to wipe the coordinates. I’m good, but I’m not that good in remembering numbers.”

A blatant lie, Bruce knows. But maybe it was that little hitch in his friend’s voice when he stumbled over the name of his AI, his friend – his _dead_ friend – or maybe because Bruce might miss his friends a little… either way, he doesn’t call Tony out. 

“How did you find me, anyway? I thought your stealth-mode on the Quinjet was untraceable? I recall some blatant bragging about that.” The gas-lamp is finally lit, and Bruce turns to see Tony exactly where he thought he’ll be. He’s not really smirking, though, head tilted against the wall and eyes on the ceiling. 

“Bruce, I’m disappointed in you. Here I thought you know me so well… The Quinjet is untraceable and very, very stealthy. But it’s a weapon, and I gave it to SHIELD, and I’m a tad paranoid about my weapons in the hands of any kind of organization, about things not being where I put them. It’s untraceable – for anyone but me.”

“Should have known”, Bruce mutters, but apparently too loud.

“Yes, you should, Big Guy. For a while there, I thought you actually did and just wanted me to come get you. But then I thought ‘what if that’s not what Banner wants?’ and I decided to wait a bit. Sorry… my patience ran out last week.”

“It’s a wonder it held up for so long.” He can’t help but smile, and he’s feeling a soothing heaviness in his chest when Tony – still not looking at him – smiles at the ceiling in response. 

“It sure is. So,” and now he’s finally looking at Bruce, and his eyes are full of mischief but tired, so tired. Bruce feels a pang of pity in his chest, knows he’ll never act on it, though. Stark doesn’t like pity very much. “What are you doing here? Healing Ebola? Saving orphans? What kind of penance has your heart cooked up for you this time?”

And ah, that pity? Poof, all gone. “Yeah, as if you could possibly understand about penance,” Bruce hisses, angry at the dismissive tone. He knows he hit a mark with his words when Tony visibly flinches, but other than that, there is no reaction. It makes him even angrier. “At least I’m trying to keep away from the people I hurt, trying to make amends. I don’t wave around my magic check-book and hope everything will sort itself out! You got it easy, sitting in your tower of glass and steel and feeding your ego, trying to buy your way out of the fire you started all by yourself.”

“Funny how you mention that, Brucey,” Tony answers, calm in the same way he was the day of their first meeting, on the helicarrier when Captain America basically called him a Nothing without his suit. It’s a dangerous sort of calm, one Bruce knows well from his own brittle temper. “Because while I’ll never mock someone spending time trying to help the poor shmucks that live around here, a lot more people might benefit from someone carelessly waving around a magic check-book.” 

Tony stands, walking over so he’s toe-to-toe with Bruce now. He’s still looking incredibly tired, but there is still the same spark in his eyes that is to Bruce like a flame is to a moth. Tantalizing, beautiful, irresistible and dangerous. 

Bruce takes a step back.

He’s not even close to turning green, and he never feared that he would. Not with Tony Stark – for some extremely strange reason, the Hulk loves Tony and it would take a mind-fuck like the Maximov-girl did on him to make him actively hurt Stark. 

Bruce slumps, lets the tension drain out of his muscles. “I know. I know that. I just… I don’t have that kind of money. And I… It’s not the same. Me staying in New York, or anywhere highly populated, will do nobody good. They’ll either try to put me to trial – and that’s not gonna end well for anyone – or I’ll one day hulk out again and crash another twenty blocks of homes and lives.”

Tony steps closer and pats him on the shoulder. Not softly, not carefully, but with the hearty slap a guy gives another guy. No caution and no sugar-coating, and Bruce realizes how much he always liked that about Tony. And how much it is part of the reason he’s always hiding somewhere where no-one knows him. He hates when people treat him like a volatile component, and apart from Tony, nearly everyone acts like he’ll explode any second, trying to keep stress far away from him. Which… only serves to make him clench his teeth in frustration. Walking on eggshells around him is certainly bad for his temper. But while he can admit to himself that he likes Tony for his carelessness, Bruce’s brain will always remind him that it’s sheer crazy stupidity and a blatant disregard for his own life that lets his friend act like that. Tony probably doesn’t even know how much Bruce craves this crazyness.

“I know, Buddy. I do.” Then again… it’s Tony Stark. He might actually really know. “I’m not here to drag you back, and uh… I didn’t want to imply that you’re … that this is something … that being here isn’t worthwhile. I…”He lets go of Bruce’s shoulder and looks away, so much like a little boy who’s done wrong and is awkwardly trying to apologize. Once again, Tony reminds him of the original Peter Pan, the boy who refused to grow up – cocky, self-assured, arrogant and strangely vulnerable and yet with his heart in the right place. He wishes he could stay mad at him. “I just wanted to see if you’re ok. I won’t tell anyone I saw you, if you don’t want me to. Just… Uh, they’re not really mad at you, you know? They wouldn’t mind if you came back.”

 _But they’re still mad at you, huh?_ Bruce doesn’t say, but he’s pretty sure it’s one of the reasons Tony looks like he hasn’t slept in weeks. As much as he claimed to never want to be a part of a team, he’s always loved to have friends around him. Having them yanked out from under his feet… Bruce can honestly admit that that would suck. 

“I know. Thanks. I… I just don’t think that’s a good idea. Not at the moment, but it’s … it’s good to know that I can. One day. Maybe.”

“Ok, that’s fine.” Tony smiles at him, only honesty showing on his face. If this were Natasha, Bruce’d never be certain, but Tony’s just not that good an actor around his friends. “It’s your life, you’re a grown-up and you can certainly decide for yourself.”

“Thanks.” It’s a heartfelt thanks. Bruce probably shouldn’t be surprised that it’s Tony who gets it, but … well, he is. A bit. “Uh… Do you want some tea?” Now that the anger is gone, he is reluctant to let Tony go, the only line to his other life. 

“Really? Tea?” There is an actual nose-crunch, which looks just funny above the carefully sculpted goatee. “Uh… sure, yes, thanks.”

**

“You know why I like you, Bruce?”

“Because of my sexy brain?”

“Ha! Sure, yes. That. But … Also because you are one of the very, very few people who get… who might get … me. A bit. Maybe.”

Bruce smiles into his cup. “I’m hiding in the forest, Tony. I didn’t accomplish another doctorate somewhere.”

“Huh?”

“Still not that kind of Doctor, Tony.”

“Oh. Oh! No… Well. Uh… Sorry.” He’s silent now, but Bruce knows he won’t stay that way. If Tony has something on his mind, it’s impossible for him to not speak. Even if it’s not always that what’s bothering him that comes out of his mouth. 

Well, it rarely is, to be precise. 

“I envy you, you know?”

Bruce can feel his eyebrows trying to hit his hairline. “What the hell for?” He can’t think of a single reason anyone would be envious about his life, and while he does have pretty nice, full locks, Tony at least can’t complain about his own hair. “No, really. What on earth is so great about my life that you feel envious?”

“Oh well, if you’d get technical, there’s a lot. I mean,” and Tony starts to count off his fingers “you’re good-looking and healthy, and you will certainly stay healthy for a long, long time. For a lot of people, that’s kinda enough to be jealous. Second, you can kick ass in a way nobody else can. Well, maybe with exception to Thor, though I’m not certain. We’d have to… no, sorry. Uh… Third, you … travel a lot?” Bruce can’t help sniggering, and Tony grins as if making him giggle like a girl is a great accomplishment. Huh, maybe it is. “And you’re smart, really damn smart.”

“Yeah, maybe. I could see maybe someone not as knowledgeable about me being somewhat in awe about all my _cool_ enhancements. But you’re Tony fucking Stark. You know better.”

“Yes, ok, well. Sure. I do. I mean, I’m handsome, smart and on top of that, I’m filthy rich. So yeah.”

Bruce can feel Tony trying to backpaddle, but now he wants to know. “So what is there that could make you feel envious?”

There’s silence while Tony sips his tea. Bruce waits. “This tea is not too bad, actually. What’s in it?”

“Tony.”

“I… uh, you know, I…” Big sigh, a self-deprecating snort. “You can hide, you know? You can just go somewhere in the world where people don’t know you, don’t know who you are and you can just … shake off what your anger did to some city-blocks miles away. You go here, help people in every way you can to try to make amends, and they will be grateful and you can start forgetting. Or well, maybe not forgetting exactly, but… well, start living with it. Your deeds are far away, and whatever you did, it didn’t affect these people here. Clean slate. Completely clean, nothing left.”

“Until it happens again.”

“Yes. Sure. But then you leave, and your next stop doesn’t care about some village in the forest because now you’re helping them, and that’s all they care about. You can go and be anonymous, and while I could just let my hair grow and cut my beard and live on a beach somewhere, there is no place on earth that hasn’t been touched by what I have done. What I’ve built in the past, what I’ve contributed to.” Tony sighs again and takes another sip. The tea must be tepid by now, or even cold, but it’s probably not so much the taste that matters but the fact that he can have a legitimate reason to pause his words. Despite himself, Bruce is curious about what else will come out of Tony’s mouth. 

“So yes, I envy you your ability to just leave it all behind and start new in a place that doesn’t give a fuck. There _is_ no place that doesn’t give a fuck about my weapons. There will always be another Maximov out there, somewhere. A family that’s been destroyed, a village wiped out. My ego had me built weapon after weapon, gun after gun. Each one better than the last, and every single one very efficient in their sole purpose: killing people. And I might get away with claiming that I only dealt with the US military for the heavy stuff, but to be honest… I didn’t exactly make an effort to look for myself where they ended after the ink on the contract had dried. I trusted Stane, yes, and he betrayed me, but that doesn’t make my oversight… no, my carelessness any better. Your ego made you try a formula that turned you into a giant green monster, and that’s horrible, I admit. But if you count the people you killed, directly or indirectly, you’ll probably not even match Natasha. And maybe not even Clint.”

“I actually never thought about it that much. I don’t count – even one death is enough, if you ask me.”

“Yeah, well. Do you even know how many weapons I designed? How many my company produced and delivered? Do you know how many of those got ‘lost’ somewhere or were stolen or plain ‘fell off the truck’? And that’s not even counting those that were used by the people they were actually sent to. They still destroyed lives. Natasha keeps going on about there being red in her ledger and she’s trying to get that stain off. Well. My ledger is _dripping_ so much red, you can’t even read the script anymore. And I’m not … not complaining. I made that bed I’m now sleeping in, I lived from that blood pretty well for a long time and refused to feel guilty.” 

_Because you refused to look closer, right, Tony?_

“But now I can’t anymore, and now I’m _trying_ to be better, and yet… there will always be people whose life my … my ego destroyed. So yeah, I’m not going out to try to help some people built a church or a hospital. For one, they might just shoot me on sight and who would be helped then? And for two, there aren’t enough hours in the universe to atone for each life that my _legacy_ has touched.”

The silence in the hut is only broken by the sounds of the gas-lamp, a hissing noise that’s interrupted every now and then by a bug flying in and dying a fiery death.

“I think I understand,” Bruce finally says, because he can’t bear the stillness anymore and because he really understands what Tony is telling him. He’s not blaming anyone, not trying to elicit pity. He’s spoken without hard emotions, just stated facts like he’d state the findings of one of his projects. 

“See? This is why I like you best”, Tony grins, maybe with a bitter-sweet touch. “You get that. You can actually get this… this…” he taps his chest, “this thing inside you that tells you that no matter how good you are, in the end, your actions and especially your intentions define your life. If I had actually died when I flew that nuke through the portal, _maybe_ I’d have died a hero in the history books. But I didn’t, and right now whatever I fucking do will not be enough. Trying to create the system that keeps the world safe nearly destroyed it, and you… you know why I did that, right? Right? Bruce?”

He isn’t looking, but he knows Tony’s eyes are pleading with him now, asking for… if not forgiveness, then at least understanding. And that’s so wrong, because Bruce had been there all along with Tony. Sure, he was a bit persuaded, but the fact remains that he _had been persuaded_ , and it didn’t even take much. He’d wanted it just as much as Tony, this chance to make things right. To atone. To do something so worthwhile that your other actions pale in comparison. It backfired, and not even really through their fault. Yeah, he’d been quick to judge it as Tony’s fault, along with the others, but that was part uncertainty – it’s not completely unthinkable that Tony went ahead without Bruce – and part cowardice. He was already feeling like the weird uncle in the strange family they called Avengers, always on the sidelines except when shit really hit the fan. And even then, it wasn’t _him_ they needed but his green alter ego. Bruce hadn’t wanted to be responsible for even more catastrophes than he already was so often. 

But he knows deep down, and had known even then if he’d thought about it, that Tony wouldn’t have merged JARVIS with that unknown entity inside the stone if there’d been a danger to his system. Tony wouldn’t have sacrificed his friend on a whim, and he should have spoken up. He never had, though, and now it is too late anyway. 

But he can give Tony something now. “To keep them safe. Not to be a hero, but to keep them safe from whatever is out there. I know. I helped. I should… I should have told them that it wasn’t your fault. I’m sorry.”

He can actually hear the weight drop from Tony’s heart, the relief is so palpable in this shitty one-room house. It’s like Tony had come just for that, and it makes Bruce’s heart ache in his chest for just leaving things, just skipping and running and leaving his friends. Leaving Tasha. 

“Right. Exactly. And… see, you get it. You get that, and Steve… I like the guy, you know? I really do. He’s a good friend and a good man, but he’ll _never_ get it. His life has been hard and all, but how can someone… how… he would never understand like you do. You know?”

And funny thing is, Bruce does. 

Steve Rogers is the epitome of right, the one good man the serum turned into an even better man, selfless to the bone, loyal and with a heart of gold. And he might try to see things from every angle, but the fact remains that someone who has never seen a giraffe wouldn’t be able to draw one accurately. Or, to stay away from biology: someone who hasn’t got a selfish bone in his body will never understand the guilt that comes from acting selfish. And someone who has only ever been a good guy can’t, not even if he tried real hard, understand what it’s like to be drowning in anger, arrogance and selfishness. 

In all his fairness and gloriousness, Steve would never get why Tony keeps paying half of their operations and their gear or designs armor and weapons to keep them safe. Not really. And he’ll never really get why Bruce hides his green hide from even his friends, why he runs away from someone who might actually love him when all Steve knows is how much it would hurt to miss that chance, since _that_ , the missed chance, is what he knows. 

How could he know the sheer terror of thinking he’d one day hurt Betty? How could he understand that it’s not so much Hulk he fears but the sheer blinding anger that Robert Bruce Banner feels sometimes inside his bones, the anger his own father kicked and punched into his bones. That it’s not Hulk’s fists he is afraid will hurt Betty or Natasha but Bruce’s own hands leaving marks. And while there really is little chance he’d succeed in hurting the Black Widow, the fact that he might _try_ alone would ruin them as a couple, as friends and maybe even as a team.

So yes. He gets what Tony is saying. And maybe he gets why Tony came here tonight instead of talking with his other friends about all that shit. 

He thinks he gets why Tony Stark would rather talk to a physicist than That Kind of Doctor. 

**

Outside of the little hut, the nightbirds start their calls. Somewhere, something is slithering through the underbrush and far away, some poor animal cries its last cry. 

Inside, two men sit silently, mourning old friends and missed chances. They aren’t talking, but it doesn’t seem to matter to either of them. 

In the morning, one of them will leave and go back to a life in the spotlight, trying to do the right thing and probably failing to find _the_ right thing. If he’s lucky, he’ll do some little right on the way there.   
The other will treat open sores and broken bones in an effort to calm his anger so far that one day, he might trust himself with people he actually cares about. He’ll do good and maybe find equilibrium, or if not, then maybe at least peace. 

Right now, though, they just sit there and sip disgusting tea from old, cracked enamel-cups and stare into the flickering flame of an old gas-lamp.

Sometimes, silence is more helpful than any word you might say. Sometimes knowing you’re not completely alone is enough to get you through another day. 

 

~end~


End file.
